Passing the Test
by Brambleshadow of WindClan
Summary: [Written by Sarah (teamfreewillsamdeancas). Sequel to Winchester Crash Course.] Sam and Dean are grieving Annabelle's death in their own ways. Meanwhile, a teenage hunter named Danny is stuck in Purgatory trying to find his way out along with a mysterious teenage girl who claims to know the Winchesters.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Sam and Dean are grieving Annabelle's death in their own ways. Meanwhile, a teenage hunter named Danny is stuck in Purgatory trying to find his way out along with a mysterious teenage girl who claims to know the Winchesters.

**Notes: **Written by Sarah (teamfreewillsamdeancas). Sequel to _Winchester Crash Course_.

Like in _Winchester Crash Course_, this is told in the first person. Chapter titles will have the name of that chapter's narrator.

There is also angst and mentions of drinking. And drunk!Dean.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Sam**

* * *

_Day 1  
The __House in__ Lincoln_

No matter how hard I tried, the tears wouldn't stop running down my face. I had tried to comfort Dean, but I needed comforting myself. _Annabelle is gone._ The thought wouldn't leave my mind. It had taken hours for Cass to finally show up. He had been fighting his own part of the war in heaven and looked as anguished as Dean and I felt about not saving Annabelle. Cass had taken Dean and I home, though he couldn't look Dean in the eye. Dean was furious. He was angry with himself because he thought he could've done something to change Annabelle's fate. He was angry he couldn't save her. He was angry Cass hadn't shown up. I was depressed. Annabelle was part of the family. Nothing would be the same without her. The Impala would be quieter. Hunts would be grim. There would be no laughter.

But something was bothering me about Annabelle's death. She wasn't completely dead when she lost consciousness, but her body dissipated. It was like something or someone took her. I was suspicious. I had mentioned my suspicions to Dean, but he had shrugged them off.

_It was probably the bullet,_ he had said. _We put her through enough pain by bringing her into the life. Let her have a good afterlife. She deserves it. Let her go._

Those were the last words I expected to hear from Dean. _Let her go._ Dean's statement echoed through my mind. _Let her go, _I told myself, but I still couldn't. What if she was still out there? What if she needed me? What if she needed us?

The hyper rational side of me combated my questions but not much. _Maybe you just don't want her to be gone. She isn't coming back, Sam. Believe Dean, and move on. Not everyone comes back after they die._ The evidence I thought I had blew all of those thoughts away.

Instead of doing anything about it, I laid in bed staring at the ceiling letting my thoughts wonder and listening to the deafening silence left in Annabelle's wake. I wondered what her heaven was like, made guesses, and replayed what had happened in my mind over and over again.

_I should've aimed at Zoe once I had shot the other angel,_ I thought. What if I had shot Zoe instead of the other angel? Would it have ended differently? Would Annabelle still be across the hall?

I would give anything to be able to see Annabelle again. If I ever did, I wouldn't let her go again. For a moment, I thought I heard Annabelle's voice. _You can't keep me safe forever, Sam. You have to let me live on my own at some point._

I sat up and swore I saw Annabelle leaning against the wall and giving me the raised-eyebrow look she always gave me when she was trying to prove her point and slightly shaking her head. Her arms were crossed and her ponytail shook with her head. It was the same response she gave me whenever a hunt hadn't gone as planned and I promised to protect her. The vision faded quickly, and I flopped back on the bed. _You just miss her. Let her go,_ I thought.

Tears came to my eyes and left their corners. I thought maybe if I closed my eyes and fell asleep, I would wake up with Annabelle safe and sound, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep. I heard Dean come in downstairs. The door slammed behind him. I gathered myself and went downstairs to check on him. Dean was drunk and stumbled to me.

"Mornin', Sammy. How're ya doin' this morning?" Slurred.

"Been better. What about you?"

"Drunk."

"Yeah, I can see that. Let's get you into bed, okay?"

I started to lead Dean upstairs. He didn't protest until we got to the top of the stairs.

"Sam. Sammy, stop." He veered towards Annabelle's room instead of his own. Tears filled his eyes, but he tried to hold them back.

"What are you doing, Dean?" I couldn't stop my voice from shaking.

"Just let me do what I want, Sam. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself." Dean's tone was harsher than I expected.

I stood at the top of the stairs staring dumbfounded at Dean as he went into Annabelle's room and closed the door. I don't know what he expected to find in there, but I soon heard him crying softly. After a while, the room went silent. I peeked in. Dean was passed out face down on her bed. He hadn't bothered to pull back the purple blankets and cover up; he'd just flopped down and passed out. I glanced around the room.

There wasn't much, but all of it was Annabelle's style. The bed was simple. The posts just wooden blocks so it didn't matter which side you used as the head and the foot. The dresser and desk matched: simple, brown wood. The drawers didn't have any clothes, and there weren't any personal items. Everything had been torn down and packed up when we'd left after Dylan and Marina's deaths. The room still smelled faintly of the sweet-smelling perfume Annabelle wore. I took it all in until tears blurred my vision then I returned to my room. How were Dean and I going to stay here without Annabelle? I wasn't even completely sure we could hold the place down without her.

_What would you boys do without me?_ Annabelle's voice echoed through my mind again. _I leave you for a week, and you've already managed to turn this place into a pigsty!_

Annabelle had been right. She had left for a week to go on a hunt with Dylan and Marina. When she came back, fast food wrappers and beer cans littered the floor in the kitchen and were scattered across the dining room table. She had the house back in order in a few hours and was doing our laundry for the next case by the time the sun was setting.

_Annabelle, come back. We need you,_ I thought hopelessly.

I wasn't completely sure how things were going to work now. I didn't know what Dean would want to do with this house once he came to his senses, but I hoped he would opt to keep it. We needed a headquarters, and we didn't have the money to buy another property even if we sold this one. I understood there were a lot of now painful memories here with Annabelle gone, but we could just hunt for a while and come back when we were ready.

"Sam?" Cass's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I sat up to look at the angel. Even he looked out of it. I guess all of us took Annabelle's death hard.

"What is it?" The question came harsher than I meant it. "Sorry, Cass," I amended. "What's going on?"

"I thought you may want to pick up the Impala. Dean will be wanting it."

"Oh, yeah. Uh, sure."

I had to think for a minute before I remembered we had left the Impala in Maine. That meant a full day's drive back here. All well. Dean could take care of himself, and he'd be happy to have his car back. Castiel took me to the Impala without another word. Instead of leaving like I expected him to, Cass stayed with me. The angel had an apologetic look on his face, a look Cass normally never gave anyone.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," Cass blurted.

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you sorry for?"

"I did not come to help when Dean called. Now Annabelle is dead. Dean is angry with me."

"Well, yeah. He thinks you ignored him, but you were fighting your part in the war in heaven. There's nothing to apologize for . . . and can we not talk about Annabelle?" The last part of my sentence came as a barely **AUDIBLE** whisper.

"Yes, of course. I apologize for bothering you," Cass said.

Just like that, he was gone leaving me alone with the Impala. One of Annabelle's **NOTEBOOKS** in the backseat caught my attention before I got in the car. Her neat handwriting read "Hunter's Journal" on the front. A wave of guilt and grief crashed into me. More tears came to my eyes. This was all we had left of Annabelle. Her bag had disappeared with her body. I pushed the emotions away, got in the driver's seat, and started the Impala. Long drive home, I thought as I pulled onto the desolate highway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Danny**

* * *

_Purgatory_  
_100 years_

I almost tripped over the girl. She was deathly pale and had a still bleeding gunshot wound under her breast. Under normal circumstances, I would've left her for the vampires to get, but her delicate features looked familiar. I heard leaves rustling behind me. I had no time to think now, but I would figure out what was so familiar about the girl later so I stood protectively in front of her.

She had shown up in one of the few clearings in Purgatory, and, of course, she was unconscious. This left the two of us largely exposed. A couple vampires jumped out of the trees. I cut them down quickly and stood silently listening for any sign that more were coming. When I knew we were safe, I pulled the girl into my arms and brought her back to the small camp I had set up in a hidden cave by the stream. Lucky for the girl, it wasn't too far from where she was, and it only took a few minutes to get there.

I had what I needed to survive in the cave I'd come to call home: a small fire, food, clean water, first aid supplies, and weapons. The cave was hidden so no monsters found it. It gave me one huge advantage in this world of monsters: I could disappear if I wanted. Right now, it meant that I could give this girl the attention she needed without worrying about being ambushed. I laid the girl down on the stone floor and got a good look at her for the first time.

The girl had fair skin. Her chest-length, wavy hair was a light caramel color with blonde highlights that showed when the firelight caught her hair just right. She was lean and kind of muscular. In short, she was beautiful, and she couldn't have been more than fourteen years old. Then it hit me: this was the girl the angels were after. They must've found her and used their new weapon, the one that had sent me here, on her. Her shirt and jacket were soaked in blood originating from the bullet hole. A bag was slung over her shoulders. Her breaths were shallow. The shot that I supposed brought her here would've punctured her lung if it hadn't been partially healed.

Even with the injury being made survivable, it still needed attention and was bleeding pretty badly. I took my first aid supplies out, cut away enough of her shirt to get to the wound, and cleaned it out. The girl groaned at this, but she didn't open her eyes or move. Once I was sure it was clean, I took out some gauze and medical tape and covered the bullet hole. The girl needed some water, and I figured she needed it badly so I tried to trickle some down her throat. The girl coughed, spat the water out to the side, and groaned before she noticed me. An expression of panic passed over her features before she hid it, shot to her feet, and kneed me in the stomach. She took out a gun and had it trained on me in seconds though moving so quickly clearly hurt her and she was obviously dizzy from blood loss. I put my hands up and grinned. The girl had spunk.

"Relax. I don't bite. You're hurt. Sit down. Drink some water."

"Why should I trust you?" The girl regarded me with grey eyes as cold and emotionless as stones.

"Because you and I are the only hunters down here, and I just saved your life."

I handed the girl a bottle of water. She lowered her weapon and took it apprehensively. Her hand shook slightly despite how hard she was trying to keep it steady. Fear showed in her eyes, but there was something else there, something I hadn't expected. She almost looked annoyed that she had woken up here, like she had been expecting someone or something else.

"Where_ is _down here?" she asked, irritation and the slightest hint of fear in her voice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Dean**

* * *

_House in Lincoln_  
_Day 5_

I faded in and out of coherence over the next few days. I stayed drunk. I tried to forget what happened, but every time I got drunk enough to forget that Annabelle was dead, I went back to the house to look for her and ended up crying myself to sleep when she wasn't there. Sam didn't understand what was going through my mind. I didn't expect him to. He tried to stay sober; I sobered up enough to stay lucid and comfortably numb. I spent days staring at the television with a drink in my hand. After a few days, Sam walked into the living room and stood between me and the television with his laptop in his hands.

"What are you doing? Get out of the way," I complained.

"No. You can't just sit around and drink, Dean. You need to do something."

Sam turned around and turned off the television. He then took my drink and disappeared into the kitchen. I followed and watched silently as Sam took every bottle of alcohol we had and set it out on the counter.

"This is ridiculous, Dean. Would Annabelle want you to do this?" Sam asked.

His question hit me hard. Would she want me to do this? I pushed the question away. This was how I was coping. Annabelle wasn't here to make heads or tails of it so what did it matter if I drank?

"You're being ridiculous, Sam. She's gone," I said and snatched up a bottle of whiskey. I untwisted the lid to take a swig.

"So that gives you an excuse to drink yourself to death?"

Sam took the bottle before I could get it to my lips and poured the whiskey into the sink.

"Hey!" I protested, but Sam didn't stop. He picked up another bottle to empty.

"Drinking is only a temporary fix, Dean. You're gonna have to face your problems at some point," Sam nagged.

"You can take the whiskey from me in a few days, all right?"

I snatched a bottle from Sam's hand. He looked annoyed at me and took it back. Sam poured that bottle down the drain and moved to the next.

"You told me that two days ago," Sam sighed as he poured the last bottle into the sink and threw it away. "You're gonna sober up, and we're gonna go work a case."

"I don't want to sober up, and I don't want to work a case," I made irritation clear in my voice, but Sam still didn't back down.

"We need to. It'll distract you better than sitting in front of the TV all day. Go upstairs. Sleep it off. We'll head out tomorrow," Sam ordered.

"No, we won't. We're not gonna start working right away, Sam. We need a break," I protested.

"Just go get some sleep, Dean," Sam sounded exasperated and pulled his hands over his face.

For the first time, I realized that Sam was taking Annabelle's death as hard as I was. He was trying to hold everything together and keep us busy for me. Sam looked tired and sad. His eyes were bloodshot, and even now as he was trying to act like he was doing fine, he looked as if he was about to cry. My tone softened toward him when I said, "All right. You get some rest, too, Sammy. We'll talk about a case tomorrow."

Sam looked gratefully at me. "Thank you," he said under his breath.

I trudged upstairs to my room. I flopped down on my bed and fell asleep quickly. Different images of Annabelle haunted my dreams. Each memory my mind showed me seemed to hurt more and more. Finally, I woke up with tears running down my face. My body felt like it was made of lead, and the tears that left my eyes wouldn't stop coming. I was completely sober, and everything seemed to hurt ten thousand times more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Annabelle**

* * *

_Purgatory_  
_Day 1_

"Welcome to Purgatory, newbie," the boy said.

I almost dropped the bottle of water at the name "Purgatory." The boy wore a stupid little half grin on his face as he watched my panicked movements. He looked mischievous with that grin and his slightly upturned nose. His black hair was shaggy and cut diagonally across his forehead covering his left eye. His eyes were a warm whiskey color that danced in the firelight. He wore a Green Day T-shirt, black leather jacket, and black jeans. His classic black and white Converse had seen better days. He was pretty scrawny, but I could tell he was strong and could be dangerous if he wanted to. He looked to be about my age, fourteen maybe fifteen. He was cute in the way that bad boys were in movies.

"Don't call me newbie," I replied.

Some of my panic had made it into my voice along with forced bitterness. I couldn't befriend this boy, not if we were where he said we were. I looked the boy over again trying to gauge how trustworthy he really was.

"What should I call you then?" he asked, snapping me out of my calculations.

"Annabelle," I said cautiously. "What do I call you?"

"Danny. Nice to meet you," the boy, Danny, said lamely.

"Same to you," I said dryly. "How long have you been down here?"

"A hundred years."

I did the math in my head. That was roughly ten months back on Earth.

"Why'd you take me in? I might be a monster for all you know."

"You're a hunter. The angels were making a special weapon to punish you. How do you think I got here? I was their guinea pig. You're the girl the angels were after. Did they find you?"

I regarded Danny again for a minute and felt my heart sink. The angel weapon that brought me here had been tested on him. How many other hunters had the angels killed before their weapon worked? It was my fault this boy was here. I pushed the thought away and pretended like what he had said didn't bother me.

"Only because we let them. Thanks for taking care of me and all, but I've gotta find my way back to Earth."

I walked out of the cave and blinked against the dull sunlight. I took a minute to gather my bearings. I couldn't find the source of the light that flooded the place. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I took in the scenery. It was a forest, but not a thick one. The trees were dry and dead, but still looked strong enough to climb if need be. A small stream ran past the cave. Good. Fresh water. I would need to keep that in sight. Purgatory was almost completely silent. My gun wouldn't be an option here. Too loud. I exchanged it for a machete I carried in my bag and started walking though I wasn't sure where I was going.

After a while, I stopped for a drink and knelt next to the stream. The cold liquid seemed to send a burst of electricity through my body as it travelled down my throat and into my empty stomach. I felt the senses that seemed to have been dulled since I woke in the cave come back to life. I felt ready for anything. I took my bag off of my shoulders and pulled on a button up shirt over my now tattered T-shirt before splashing some water over my face. Crack. The twig snapping echoed in my ears. It was loud, clear, and right behind me. I grabbed my machete and whirled around. Danny was behind me, and the point of my machete was at his throat. I lowered it and scowled at him.

"What is your problem?" I hissed. "You almost got yourself killed!"

"Hey, relax," Danny put his hands up in surrender. "I want out, too. I won't bother you, just follow."

He looked sincere about it, and his eyes pleaded for me to show him the way out of this Hell adjacent place. I took pity on the boy. I turned around and began walking again. Over my shoulder I said, "Fine, but you're gonna have to be quieter than that."

~oOo~

_My first night in Purgatory was definitely the worst. I perched up in a tree to have a good advantage over anyone who attacked. Danny stayed below. He set up a fire somehow managing to make sure it didn't make smoke or draw much attention. He offered me some food which I refused. He left me alone for a while before he tossed a small bag of provisions onto my lap._

"Eat. You need your energy," he insisted.

"I'm not hungry." Void of emotion.

"You need to eat."

"Who made you my mom?"

"No one, I just—"

"See? No one. I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Silence. I hated how cold I was being, but I couldn't afford to get close to this boy, not with everything that happens around me. With my luck, as soon as I got attached, Danny would be killed. I wanted to apologize, but I kept the silence up. We sat like that for hours. I started to doze off a little, but forced myself to stay awake. Danny finally spoke up.

"Go to sleep. I'll take first watch."

"No." Stone cold.

"Why don't you trust me? What'd I do to you?"

"Nothing … I just don't trust you." Softer.

"Why not? I saved you."

"This is Purgatory. For all I know, you could be a vamp just waiting to kill me."

"You were bleeding out when I found you. If I was a vamp, I would've killed you right there," he used a defensive tone then his voice grew heavy with hopelessness. "I've been alone down here for so long. I found you and thought maybe I had a chance at getting out."

I slipped out of the tree and sat next to Danny.

"I'm sorry," my voice softened completely. "I should've trusted you. We'll get out. One of the men I was travelling with was down here last year. He told me how to get out."

"So you are the Winchester kid?"

"Um … yeah. How did you know?" My voice became tense.

"Just a hunch. Winchesters are pretty famous in the hunting community."

"Oh, yeah."

I felt stupid I hadn't thought of that and relaxed.

"If you're not gonna sleep, I will. Wake me up halfway through the night. We'll take turns keeping watch."

"All right."

Danny fell silent, and I climbed back into the tree. Soon, Danny's breathing slowed, and I knew he was asleep. I didn't bother waking him up. Danny looked like he needed a full night of sleep more than me, and I couldn't have fallen asleep if I tried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Sam**

* * *

_On the Road and Laredo, Texas_  
_Week 1_

"So get this," I said in an attempt to get at least a grin out of Dean who hadn't said a word on our drive to Laredo.

The small border town was having problems with what locals called _El Cadejo_. I had been researching it in the silence and found quite a few interesting facts. When I had looked up at Dean to share my findings, he was glaring at the car in front of us apparently not satisfied with the view. He glanced at me, expression unchanging, and said, "What'd you find?"

"_El Cadejo_ is the Latino version of a black dog, but there's a twist."

"What's the twist?"

"There's a few actually. You can only see _El Cadejo_ when you're drunk and wandering hiking trails at night, and if you're a good person, a white dog will defend you."

Dean looked a little curious when he looked at me now. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"So you got me sober for nothing?"

"Not for nothing. You had to drive."

"You could've driven."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, but you can't be drunk all the time, Dean."

"I'm mourning. It's a normal human reaction to the death of someone close to you, Sam," Dean shot back.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to drink yourself to death."

"I was coping."

"You seem to be coping just fine without alcohol right now."

"I guess I'm just a good actor. What about you? How are you taking this?"

"Believe it or not, Annabelle's death hit me just as hard as it hit you."

"You seem to be coping just fine," Dean mocked.

"I guess I'm just a good actor," I mocked in the same tone.

Dean shut up after that, and I didn't say anything either. The remainder of the drive to Laredo was spent in strained silence.

~oOo~

When we arrived in Laredo, Dean unpacked quickly. He carefully avoided the backseat where Annabelle's hunter's journal still lay. Whenever his eyes fell on it, he cringed and quickly looked away. I stared at it for a while wondering if we should read it or not. That journal would contain Annabelle's thoughts in her last days. I wanted to know if she knew this was going to happen . . . or if she may have subconsciously wanted it to happen. The poor girl had been through a lot in the past year with her entire family being torn away from her then the deaths of Dylan and Marina. It wouldn't be an unreasonable thought. Dean caught me looking at the notebook and shoved my bag against my chest.

"Right," I muttered.

I tore my eyes away from the notebook and helped Dean bring everything into our room. This motel was just like all the others: cheap, strangely decorated, and fairly dirty. This one had a lame South-of-the-border theme. Its color pallet consisted of faded reds, yellows, and greens. The wallpaper was decorated with sombreros, ponchos, cacti, and piñatas. The beds were the only items that didn't have any patterns of Mexican items. The blankets and pillows were just plain white. I dropped my bag on one of the two beds and lay down. It was late, and I doubted the police department would be open right now so I fell asleep.

~oOo~

I stood in a dark room like a prison cell. It was absolutely silent, and I was alone. I looked around at my surroundings once more. I couldn't see more than two feet in front of me. The floor seemed to be stone, but I couldn't tell much else. I turned to my other senses. I listened closely and heard something dragging along the floor. Something tugged the hem of my jeans. I looked down and saw a hand clawing at my ankles. Then I heard the voice.

"Sam." It was barely audible and hoarse. I couldn't tell if it was male or female. "Sam, please, help me."

I shook my foot free and backed up a little. "Who are you?"

"Don't leave me here. You have to help me. I need you, Sam."

I heard the dragging sound again and backed up more.

I backed myself against a wall. I ran my hand up and down it and found a light switch. I flipped it, and the room filled with an eerie glow. No one was in the room with me. A door opened to my left, and I ran out of it. I found myself in the dark once again. I ran blindly down what seemed to be a narrow hallway. Suddenly, I heard the voice again.

"Don't leave me, Sam. Help me. Help!"

The voice filled the hallway. It was Annabelle yelling for me to help her.

"Annabelle!" I yelled into the darkness. "Where are you?"

"Help me, Sam. I'm so lost. Help me."

The voice was behind me. I turned and saw a bloody hand reaching towards me. I reached out to grab it, but the hand was  
jerked into the darkness farther away from me and Annabelle's scream echoed through the hall.

"Annabelle! Don't move!"

"Help! They've got me! Help!"

I ran deeper into the darkness after Annabelle's voice. Each time I got close, something pulled her back farther away from me until I came to the end of the hall. Lights came on. Annabelle's lifeless corpse lay before me in a puddle of blood.

"No!"

The sound of my voice seemed to be magnified by the silence of the room. Dean looked over at me from where he was situated at the table in the kitchenette of the room.

"Nightmare?" he asked.

I nodded and got up. "What time is it?"

"'Bout six in the morning. Time to pay the sheriff a visit."

"Give me an hour."

I gathered what I needed and got ready. Dean had coffee for both of us when I came out of the bathroom. Wordlessly, we got in the Impala and headed downtown.

~oOo~

When we got there, reporters were everywhere. The sheriff was just returning, and the press was bombarding him as he tried to get inside. As Dean and I approached, we heard reporters shouting, "Sheriff! Can you tell us anything about the recent murders?" or, "Sheriff, anything you can tell us about last night's victim?"

The sheriff didn't say anything until he reached the door to the Laredo Police Department. Then he turned around and said, "The bodies we have found are all victims of animal attacks, not murders. I have no further information to share with you," before he went inside. Dean and I pushed through the disappointed crowd and went through the door the sheriff had just gone through. He had already disappeared into his office. The policewoman at the desk looked up at us and scowled.

"No reporters in here! Out!" she said angrily.

Dean and I flashed our badges. I looked at the woman's nametag. It read "M. Ortiz."

"Good morning, Officer Ortiz. We need to speak to the sheriff if that's okay," I said.

Ortiz's eyes widened when she saw our badges. "I'm so sorry. Yes, you may speak to the sheriff. He's the third door on the right that way," she pointed. "I'll let him know you're coming."

I flashed a smile. "Thank you."

Dean and I followed Ortiz's instructions and knocked on the door the read "Sheriff Antonio Vasquez." A moment later the sheriff flung the door open. He gave us a cold glare that we weren't unused to. We'd learned that local law enforcement tended not to like Feds.

"Morning, Sheriff Vasquez. We're Agents Stark and Banner. We've been hearing about the recent deaths and wanted to make sure you've got everything under control," Dean said.

"What're Feds doing here? They're just animal attacks. Nothin' for the FBI to be concerned about," the sheriff said.

"We're just covering our bases," I said. "The reporters were saying there was another attack last night?"

"Yeah. Now leave. We've got this under control."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked in an unfriendly tone. "It doesn't look like you do."

The sheriff gave Dean his best death glare. Dean returned it but more severely.

"Yes, I'm sure. I have teams out searching for the dog now. Get out of my town. Tell your superiors that we can handle this on our own."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen." Dean's voice had a little bit of a challenge in it. "Were there any survivors of the attacks?"

The sheriff was silent until Dean's glare became even more menacing. He took a step back and said, "One, but she don't want to talk to anyone."

"We're gonna need her name."

"Her name's Violeta Torres. I can get her report for you if you want."

"That would be nice."

Vasquez left and returned with a small manila folder with a sticker that said, "Torres, Violeta" on the tab. Dean took the folder and gave Vasquez a bitter smile.

"Thank you for your cooperation."

Dean turned and walked out of the police department, me at his heels.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"That was getting what we needed. We may not be on good terms with the sheriff, but we have a witness. We can talk to her, see the bodies, killEl Cadejo, and get out of here."

"Are we gonna talk about why you're so angry?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in a sharing-and-caring sort of mood, Sam. Now get in the car."

I waited a second before I folded myself into the Impala. Dean gave me a cold glare before he turned the key in the ignition and sped out of the parking lot. We headed back to the motel to go over the file as well as the reports from the other _Cadejo_ victims. The problem was that nothing fit. The drunken hikers were all on different paths when they were killed. They were all different sexes and ages. The only similarity was they were all Hispanic, but that wasn't a surprise considering Laredo is situated right on the border of the US and Mexico.

I was looking through Violeta's file one last time when I found something Dean and I must've previously skimmed over: Violeta had been accused of robbing a convenience store. She had been tried and found innocent. I looked up the other victims' records and found that each of them had been tried and found innocent for some crime. I guess they had all actually been guilty and that was why _El Cadejo_ had attacked and killed them, and the white dog had only defended Violeta because she really was innocent.

"Dean, I figured it out," I said.

Dean came to look over my shoulder at what I was doing. His eyes took in the paper and the reports open on the computer.

"Are you looking at the felonies?" he asked.

"Yeah. It's the only thing they have in common besides being Hispanic. That has to be it."

"Well, we're both wanted. There shouldn't be any problem attracting _El Cadejo_."

"Yeah. We should still talk to Violeta. We still don't know what the thing looks like or how to kill it."

"Let's figure out how to kill it. We can talk to Violeta later," Dean said before he lost interest in me and was reading through a book we had found on El Cadejo.

~oOo~

We showed up at Violeta's residence around ten a few mornings later. She was only twenty-one years old, and she looked scared to death when she saw Dean and my badges.

"You're not in any trouble, Ms. Torres," I assured her. "We're looking into the recent animal attacks, and you're the only survivor. Would you mind describing what you saw to us?"

"No, I can't talk about what happened."

I noted the way Violeta's thumb nervously rubbed the palm of her hand and her eyes flicked nervously behind Dean and I as if she was afraid El Cadejo was coming back for her. She had obviously been traumatized by her encounter. I tried again.

"Ms. Torres, people are dying. We need some help in our investigation."

"I can't help you. I'm sorry."

"Ms. Torres," Dean interrupted, "my partner said that people are dying. You're the only one who can help. Wouldn't it feel good to spare other people from having to see what you saw?"

Violeta thought that over for a moment before she shook head. "I cannot talk about what happened. I'm sorry, Agents, but I am not ready and I would rather forget what happened." She closed the door.

"Some help she was," Dean muttered.

"She was traumatized, Dean. You saw how scared she looked. Let's leave her alone. I think we have what we need anyway," I said.

Dean and I had found that _El Cadejo_ came in three versions. Sadly, the version we figured we had wasn't the one that was said to be killable. I figured it was worth a try anyway, and a silver knife would probably take the creature down.

"I guess. Let's just go back to the motel and wait for the sun to set."

I followed Dean to the Impala and we headed back to the crappy motel.

~oOo~

When the sun began to set, Dean began to drink insisting he had to be the one to take_ El Cadejo _down and he needed someone to drive him back here after all was said and done. I wasn't sure how well that plan would work, but once Dean had drank almost half a bottle of the strongest whiskey the local liquor store had, he started making stupid remarks and I knew he was drunk. There was no changing plans now.

Once Dean was satisfied that he was sufficiently drunk, he pointed out what trail he wanted to go to and tossed me the Impala's keys. I drove the two of us out to the secluded trail Dean had chosen and followed Dean down the path until he started to get nervous. He kept glancing around himself, and his hand kept moving toward the hilt of his silver knife.

"Dean," I whispered, "what is it?"

"I keep hearing a growl. Keep quiet, Sammy. It's coming."

I shut up after that, and Dean and I kept wondering the trail. I tried to keep track of the turns we made and different landmarks, but after a while, I knew it was useless. Hopefully there was cell service out here to get us back to the Impala.

A twig snapped in front of me, and Dean whirled around. He drew his knife and watched a spot in front of me. I supposed he saw _El Cadejo_. Dean made a slow circle. I backed away to let him take over. Dean fell to the ground and wrestled with an invisible force for a few minutes before he stuck his blade into _El Cadejo _and its blood spilled over him.

"Ah, that's just nasty," he murmured looking at his stained shirt.

"You can take a shower when we get back to the motel. Come on. We've got a long walk back to the Impala."

I led Dean back to the Impala managing not to get lost, and we began the drive back. Dean's eyes found Annabelle's hunter's journal and stayed there even as he spoke which caught me off guard. Dean's voice was suddenly full of sorrow.

"Sam, what are we gonna do without her? We needed that kid."

"I know. She wanted us to move on, Dean. We have to keep going for her and make sure nothing like this happens to anyone else."

"She went through a lot for us."

"Yeah, too much."

"Poor kid." Dean's voice was hoarse now. I could tell he was near tears without even looking at him. "Where do you think she is now?"

I thought about his question. Where was Annabelle now? We had no way to know. Her body had just disappeared, but I knew Dean wouldn't listen to me talk about that again, at least not yet, so I gave him the answer he wanted to hear: "I'm sure she's with her family."

"You think she's happy?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Why'd Zoe have to take Annabelle down with her?" I glanced at Dean when he said that and saw a tear slide down his cheek. "She was a good girl. She didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to lose her family or that Dylan kid either."

"I know. There's nothing we can do now, but let her have a peaceful eternity with her family. Maybe Dylan's up there with her too."

I felt tears coming to and leaving my eyes. I wished there was something else we could've done. Annabelle should be alive still. She should've gotten to feel the victory of winning her first war, stopping her first apocalypse. She should've been able to feel free of the chains of her destiny. Maybe her nightmares would've gone away. Dylan shouldn't be dead either. Neither should his sister. All this was caused by the angels. At that thought, a burning pit of anger began to form in my stomach. There had to be other angels out there from Zoe's army, and I would find them. I would tear them apart for Dylan and Marina and Annabelle. This ended now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Danny**

* * *

_Purgatory_  
_100 years 2 months_

Annabelle was a better fighter than I thought she would be. I knew she only had one year of training, but it was one year of training with the Winchesters so she was a little better than my three years of field training with my mom. She was fierce and stubborn. It took a week for me to convince her to sleep, and even after that, she wouldn't sleep unless she felt like she needed to. We took watches, but Annabelle usually stayed up with me. We had been attacked less times than I had expected.

Annabelle seemed to know where she was going, and during what we had established as day, we trekked across Purgatory. Today was no different. We had traveled a few miles without stopping, and now we were taking drinks from the stream and rinsing our faces. Annabelle suddenly stopped and froze. Her hand went to her machete. I froze as well and listened.

Leaves rustled all around us. Annabelle and I stood, both looking in different directions, eyes in different places. Annabelle was looking into the trees while I watched the ground. That was my mistake. The vamps were in the trees. When they jumped at Annabelle, she was ready and took several down within seconds, but the first one that jumped at me launched over me and knocked me over before I could react.

I scrambled back away from the smirking vampire until my back was against something. I looked up to find I had backed into another vamp's legs. He too smiled down at me. I tried to get up, but one of them hit me over the head with the hilt of their blade. I managed to stay conscious, but my vision swam and I knew I wouldn't be able to defend myself. That may have been it for me if it wasn't for Annabelle. She was so quiet I hadn't even noticed she was coming to my rescue until the head of the vampire in front of me fell to the ground followed by its body. Anger glinted in Annabelle's grey eyes, but it didn't faze the vampire behind me. He pulled me up and held his blade to my throat.

"Don't come any closer, Winchester. I'll kill him," the vamp said.

"Go ahead. It doesn't matter what you do; I'll still have your head," Annabelle growled.

The vamp hesitated loosening his grip on me. The distraction gave me the only chance I had to escape. I elbowed the vamp below the belt and ducked out of his grip. My legs refused to hold me and my vision was still unfocused. Annabelle stepped between the vamp and I and decapitated the vamp. She then turned to me concern replacing her anger. She kneeled and looked at the bump that was forming on my head.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I think so. It's just a concussion. I'll be fine. Let's keep moving," I said.

"No. We'll stay here for a few days to make sure you're okay. Plus, you're in no condition to travel."

Annabelle dragged me to the nearest tree and propped me against it. She filled a small tin cup I had in my bag with water and brought it to me.

"Drink this, and don't fall asleep," she ordered.

She paced near me ready for any other attacks. After an hour passed and nothing else came, Annabelle sat down next to me and got out some of the food I had packed. She divided it and gave most of it to me. We ate in silence. Annabelle set up a fire and stared into the quiet night for a while before she spoke up.

"I suppose we're going to have to start fighting as a team if we're both getting out of here."

"I suppose so," I replied.

"When they attack, we need to be back to back if there's more than one. If there's only one, we should split up and attack from both of its flanks. That would require stealth and perfect timing."

"And we're going to have to trust each other."

Annabelle regarded me almost warily before she said, "Yeah, that's true. That's something we can work on right now. What do you want to know about me?"

I thought about that for a moment. I had so many questions for this mysterious girl, but I didn't want to overstep her boundaries so I started small.

"How'd you meet the Winchesters?"

"A wendigo killed my family. I was the only survivor so Sam and Dean took me in."

"Sorry about your family. Did you like travelling with Sam and Dean?"

"Yeah," she paused. "I'm going back to them once we're out of here."

"Were you with them when you were shot?"

Annabelle looked at her hands, and I knew I had hit a hard point for her so I added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Annabelle was silent for a few moments before she cleared her throat and said, "No, you should know. There's a bit of a story behind it all that you have to understand first though." She looked at me to see if I would listen to the story.

I was curious about her relationship with the Winchesters. All I knew was that the Winchesters had picked up a powerful teenage girl. I hadn't known that her family was killed or anything else about their travels.

"I'm listening," I said.

"I got really close to the Winchesters really fast. Especially Dean. He's . . . he's like a father to me. I meant to get out of the fight with Zoe safely. I didn't count on her having a gun. None of us did. She was faster than we expected too. Dean was screaming for Cas to come help us, and Sam was trying to tend to me," Annabelle's voice was hoarse now, but she kept going. "I said my goodbyes, and woke up down here."

"Oh God, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know." Annabelle cleared her throat. "Anything else you want to know?"

"No, that's all. Do you have questions for me?"

"How long have you been hunting?"

"Three years."

"And you're how old?"

"Fifteen."

"How'd you get into the life?"

"My mom did. I can't remember how she did, but she was everything I had. I did whatever she did."

"Was?"

"The angels killed her with a failed prototype of the weapon. They made me watch."

I pushed the emotions that hit me back. I remembered the day they'd shot my mother as if it was yesterday. I felt like it was haunting me, but there was nothing I could do to avenge my mother and there never would be. The Winchesters (Annabelle included) had taken care of Zoe. There would be stragglers from her army, but Sam, Dean, and Cas would probably take care of them. Anger rolled over me. The Winchesters were taking care of what I should've been doing while I was stuck down here with their youngest member. Annabelle's voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry about your mom … and sorry you got stuck down here. I guess that's on me. I'm sorry."

"You didn't pull the trigger. How could it be your fault?"

"The weapon was meant for me. Not you or your mother. It shouldn't have been tested on you. If they hadn't found out about me, none of this would've happened to you. It's my fault."

My anger took me over. I stood up and yelled, "It's not your fault! You know not every damn problem this world has is created by you stupid Winchesters!"

Annabelle cowered back at my loud voice. I turned away from her, raking my hands through my hair. I heard Annabelle retreat up the tree I had been leaning against. I didn't bother to say anything. I meant what I'd said, and the sooner this Winchester learned it the better. I walked a little ways away from our camp and vented my anger through a series of cuss words spoken under my breath aimed at Winchesters and angels: the two biggest problems in my life.

~oOo~

I slept where I had stopped to curse my problems leaving Annabelle alone. After all, she was a big bad hunter. She could take care of herself. When I returned the next morning, a plate of provisions was set out for me along with the tin of water. Annabelle wasn't on the ground. I looked up and saw her leg hanging from one of the higher branches of the tree. I guessed that was her way of apologizing and holding a grudge at the same time.

I convinced Annabelle that we should head out again with a little bit too much ease for my taste. Annabelle had receded back into near silence. It hadn't been this quiet since the first week we had travelled together, and our anger towards each other showed in our fighting over the next few weeks. There were lots of times we narrowly escaped fights with various creatures, the worst of which was a leviathan.

There was only one, but we both worked hard to take it down. The problem was that our attacks weren't coordinated. Annabelle and I were swinging at different places at the wrong times. We were lucky to get out of that fight with only minor cuts and bruises, and we both knew it. We had run about a mile and set up camp again after that. Annabelle was perched above me silently staring into the forest that made up Purgatory.

"Annabelle?" I asked.

I received no response. When I looked up, Annabelle was looking down at me. I met her eyes for a long time waiting for her reply, but she said nothing so I continued, "We need to start talking to each other again so we can work together. We can't have another disaster like today."

Annabelle regarded me then looked away. "We can talk all we want. It doesn't mean either of us will listen to the other."

She had a point, but we had to start somewhere.

"What'll it take for you to listen to me? Do you want an apology? Is that why you aren't talking?"

Annabelle shot a scornful glare my way. "Why the hell would I want an apology from you? You were right, not everything is the Winchesters' fault. I should understand that. I just thought you wanted me to leave you alone with all that cursing the Winchesters you did."

"I was angry, all right?"

Annabelle gave a cold, bitter laugh. "Is that supposed to make it better? 'I was angry'? You were still in control of your actions and your mouth!"

"I thought you didn't want an apology!"

"I don't want excuses either!"

"You sound like a damn teacher!"

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"Is it? Do you find it offensive?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Do you ever take into account how your actions are effecting those around you?"

Annabelle clenched her jaw and looked away from me again. This time her eyes didn't find me again, and I was surprised to find that I was grateful for it. The girl could be great if she wanted to, but when she was angry, she was a real ass.

~oOo~

It was another week before I calmed myself down enough to talk to Annabelle again. She had begun completely ignoring me, and we had both been injured because of it. Annabelle had taken the worst of it so I decided to take up the conversation while I was stitching up the fresh gash on her bicep.

"We need to start working together before one of us gets killed." I gave Annabelle ample time to reply before I continued talking. "We need each other to get out of here. Neither of us can get out alone. You're gonna have to speak up at some point and now is the time for us to sort out our differences so we can work together." Again, I paused. "Annabelle, we have to talk this out and work as a team. Speak up now. Whatever's on your mind, say it."

"Why'd you get so angry at me when I took blame for you and your mother's deaths?" Annabelle blurted, her grey eyes fixing intently on me. It was as if she didn't even feel the needle piercing her skin.

"Because you were acting like the world revolved around you. It doesn't, and you can't blame yourself for everything that happens. The angels went after you. The angels made the weapon. The angels pulled the trigger. None of it was your fault so you can't blame yourself. It's not fair, and it's not helping."

Annabelle's voice grew quieter, cautious, as if she was about to back out of the conversation and recede back into the solitude of her mind when she said, "You sure made it sound like you blamed me last week."

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific with what I said that made you think that."

"'Do you ever take into account how your actions are effecting those around you?'"

"I didn't . . . I didn't mean it," I amended.

I remembered saying the words, but I didn't remember what I had meant by them. It did sound like I was blaming her for what was happening. I didn't want that because I didn't blame her. All of this was the angels fault. They were probably the ones that told Annabelle that it was her fault.

"That's what it sounded like." Hurt was in Annabelle's eyes. "If you blame me, I don't blame you, I just want to know. I want you to be honest with me."

"I don't blame you, honest. Annabelle, I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have."

"It's okay. Thank you. For not blaming me, I mean."

"It isn't your fault. It's the angels'. You need to believe that."

"I'll work on it. Ow! Watch the needle, genius!"

"Sorry. I'm trying, smartass!"

Annabelle smiled a little at our exchange. I couldn't help but grin as well.

"Truce?" Annabelle asked.

"Truce," I said.

"Tomorrow we can start working on fighting together, okay?"

"Sounds good." I finished the stitches and wrapped a piece of cloth around Annabelle's arm. "But you need to watch that arm. Don't want to rip the stitches."

"Good idea. Would've never thought of it myself," Annabelle remarked sarcastically.

"Just doing my job," I said in the same tone making Annabelle grin again.

Maybe we would be able to work together after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Dean**

* * *

_Erie, Pennsylvania_  
_Month 2_

Mom burning on the ceiling, followed by Dad, then Sam, and finally Annabelle.

It was stupid that nightmares like this would still haunt me. It had been years since Mom and later Sam's girlfriend Jess had died this way, but here were the nightmares again. The nightmares that caused me to toss and turn all night while I was forced to listen to my family beg me to help them. It was the same scene with the same people and the same cries for help every time. Annabelle had been a new addition to the list. She had become someone else I couldn't protect.

As I thought this, the burning image of Annabelle stopped screaming and looked at me. I was stuck in place as it was, but the scolding intensity of her grey eyes made me stop struggling against the invisible forces that held me down. "It's not your fault, Dean."

~oOo~

The sun was just beginning to rise and cast dim light into the motel room. The rooms in the Downtown Erie Hotel were horribly decorated. The beds had a terrible pinkish purple colored blanket and the wallpaper was probably made in the 1800s. The modern light fixtures didn't fit the hotel's theme at all. I woke sitting up and had to take a minute to catch my breath.

"It's not your fault, Dean."

The words echoed in my mind. I'd been told that hundreds of times, but I never took it to heart because it was my fault. Annabelle had told me that it wasn't on my worst nights and whenever we lost people on hunts. She stayed up convincing me that it was the monsters' fault, not mine. She refused to sleep or do anything really until I had given in and said it wasn't my fault. Her grey eyes would blaze with an immense anger, not at me but at whatever had hurt me, and she would repeat over and over again, "It is not your fault, Dean!"

I pushed the thoughts as well as the nightmare out of my mind and got ready. It was time to talk to the coroner about the recent murders anyway. Once I was ready, I woke Sam up. He got ready quickly and we went to see the bodies.

The bodies the Rake left behind were gruesome. The bellies had been torn open. The pictures from the scenes were even more gruesome. The bodies were frozen in mid-scream. Blood was splattered everywhere. The Rake would be a challenge to hunt down and kill.

"So, Doc, have there been any survivors of these attacks?" I asked once Sam and I had finished looking at the bodies.

"One that I know of. He tried to take his life. He's in the mental hospital now," the coroner said cautiously.

"Does he have a name?" Sam inquired.

"You shouldn't bother him. He's in a fragile state of mind. He doesn't need any reporters bothering him."

"We won't bother him," Sam assured the coroner with one of his "charming smiles." "We just want to include his name in the article. He tried to commit suicide?"

"Yes, luckily they found him in time. His name is Gabriel Harvey."

I jotted that down and asked, "How did he try to kill himself?"

"He slit his wrists."

"Did he have a history of depression?"

"No, he was happy."

"You seem to know a lot about him," Sam noted.

"We're friends. Just leave him alone. Don't make him talk about it."

"We won't. Thanks, Doc," I said.

Sam and I went back to the Impala.

"The Rake didn't kill this guy, Gabriel so he tried to kill himself. It fits, and I'm willing to bet it's still haunting him," I said.

"We're not checking into the hospital, are we?" Sam asked warily.

"No, of course not, Sammy. We're gonna pose as orderlies."

"You're kidding."

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

Sam glanced at me and sighed. "No. How do you plan on getting in?"

"We apply for the job and get it. Come on, Sam, a monkey could've figured that out!" I joked.

Sam shrugged. "Easy enough."

~oOo~

A week later, Sam and I were working in the mental hospital. Sam had gotten the position of orderly. I was working in the kitchen making food for the patients. Sam had more of a chance to be around Gabriel than I did. Gabriel often told Sam about seeing the Rake. Unfortunately, by the time Sam would get to Gabriel when he started screaming at night, the Rake would be gone.

Tonight, I was staying with Sam outside of Gabriel's room. Gabriel began screaming around midnight. Sam and I ran in and saw the Rake. It looked the way it was described in the legends. It had leathery skin and a dog-like face. It was just skin and bones. Its back was unnaturally long and curved.

Sam shot salt rounds into it, but it had no effect. I tried silver bullets but also had no luck. The loud shots of the guns just made more patients scream and drew attention toward where Sam and I were. We turned around for a second, looked back, and the Rake was gone. Sam and I ran from the hospital.

~oOo~

We didn't risk returning to the hospital, and we didn't have to. We had seen the Rake so it had followed us back to the motel. It showed up that night when I woke up. Again, I shot at it, but it didn't go away. My shots woke Sam up and he shot at it with the salt rifle again. Nothing happened.

"Sam, do you have any salt on you?" I asked without removing my eyes from the Rake.

"No, it's in my bag. It's too risky to move, Dean. Just wait until it disappears," Sam replied.

I nodded tersely and continued staring at the Rake's empty black eye sockets. The staring match lasted about five minutes before the Rake ran out of the motel room. I slowly tore my eyes away from the spot the Rake had just been crouched.

"Think it's a Tulpa?" I asked.

"Probably. So, what? We just spread a way to kill it around the internet?" Sam asked.

"That's our best bet. What website did you say the Rake legend started on?"

"A site called 4chan. I'll post something right now."

Sam retrieved his laptop. I looked over his shoulder as he began typing: "The Rake appeared to me tonight after I saw it in one of my patients' rooms. I took a few shots at it with silver bullets, and that did the job. If a Rake follows you home, find some silver bullets stat!" Sam hit the post button. There were five views almost immediately. Sam looked satisfied with his work and closed the computer.

"We should be able to kill the Rake the next time it shows up," he said, and we both went back to sleep.

~oOo~

It seemed to take forever for the Rake to return. It had been a week, and I had to go out to hustle pool for more money. The bar wasn't that full. The only people there were some tough looking dudes and their girls. A few fairly drunk guys decided they could beat me even if their vision was blurred.

"Where're ya from?" one of them slurred.

I focused on the pool balls and ignored the man's question. I made my move. He wasn't too worried about where I was from anymore. He had bet two hundred dollars that he would win, and now he was losing. He scowled at the pool table and shakily hit the cue ball. He hit nothing. We continued on like this for hours. By the time the guy was done challenging me, I had gotten two grand off of him.

I blew some of the money on a few drinks before I headed back to the motel room. Sam was at the table on his laptop. He glanced up at me when I came in.

"Our post has over a hundred thousand views," he said.

"Too bad the Rake won't show up," I muttered.

Two days later, the Rake finally did show up. Sam shot it, and we got on the road again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Annabelle**

* * *

_Purgatory_  
_Year 20 Month 2_

"Danny, look out!" I yelled, but it was too late.

The vamp's blade came down on Danny's shoulder and cut deep into it. A small scream escaped his mouth as the vampire pulled the blade out. I ran between my badly injured partner and the vampire. I heard a soft thud behind me as Danny fell to the ground. This was by far the worst battle we had been in since I had joined him in Purgatory.

Every time we thought we were done fighting, more jumped out at us. We had been fighting for what felt like hours though it was hard to tell. Time passed faster in Purgatory. It was only a matter of time before one of us got hurt, and apparently now was that time. I cut the vampire that injured Danny down and eyed the others quickly surrounding us, following the scent of blood.

"Are you okay?" I asked without looking back.

"Just keep fighting," Danny groaned, and I did.

I took out at least fifteen more vamps before there were none left. I looked back at Danny. His shirt was soaked in blood though he was trying to stop the bleeding by holding his jacket to the wound. He looked pale. I grabbed my bag, dug out the medical kit, and knelt next to him.

"Oh God, Danny, let me see that," I murmured.

"Don't use that tone. I know that tone. That tone means it's really bad," Danny said.

Still, he pulled the jacket away from the gash. I winced. If the cut was any deeper, I wouldn't have been able to fix it on my own. I cut back the shirt and started cleaning the cut out. Danny groaned.

"Be gentle, Smartass."

"I'm trying, Genius. Here, take a sip."

I handed Danny a bottle of whiskey that I'd kept in my bag. He took a sip, coughed, and quieted down. My mind wondered to the nicknames we now used to ease the tension in a given situation. Mine was Smartass. His was Genius. They were true to our personalities. Danny was one of the most intelligent people I knew, and sarcasm was one of my main defenses. The names had been made just after we had figured out we would need to work together and had never gone away.

Now, after twenty years together, Danny and I knew each other better, but not as well as we needed to. We'd fought our way halfway across Purgatory as near as I could tell. We were still following the stream, and we'd lost a lot of weight. Anything to eat was hard to come across here, and what little we could scrounge up wasn't very filling or nutritious.

I forced my concentration back to the present as my stomach growled. Danny winced as I finished cleaning out the gash, but he eyed me worriedly.

"You should go hunting tonight. You must be exhausted. I mean, I'd do it myself, but …" He glanced guiltily at his injured arm.

I picked up a needle and floss to begin stitching up the wound. "Don't worry about it. I'm not worn out yet. I'll find us something. Hold still."

Danny groaned as I began stitching up his shoulder, but he didn't complain, and he still looked like he felt guilty for getting hurt. I knew he would feel that way as long as he couldn't use that arm, which would be a while, but I could carry both of us. He'd done the same for me when I'd been injured before. I finished up the stitches, helped Danny get a different shirt on, and washed out the other one in the stream before making a sling out of it.

"Aww, come on, is that really necessary?" Danny whined.

"Unfortunately, yes. Let me help you put it on, then I can go find us something to eat," I urged.

"Fine, fine," he said. I slipped the makeshift sling over his head before he could speak again. "Wait, are you going alone?"

"That's what I'd planned," I answered. Danny gave me yet another worried look, and I rushed into an explanation. "Danny, you know it's easier for me to hunt alone so I can sneak up on them from in the trees, and you're injured so you wouldn't be able to help out much anyway. I'll find somewhere to hide you."

"What if you get hurt? You saw the way they came at us today."

"If I don't come back after a few hours, you can come looking for me, okay?"

"Okay. Let's find somewhere to set up camp."

Danny stood without another word and began walking. He took a path that lead slightly away from the stream but was still close enough that we wouldn't lose it. I trailed behind him thinking that I should probably be in front of him in case we were attacked, then again, I was only one person. I couldn't protect him on all fronts.

After a while, I passed Danny up, and not long after that, I found a small cave under the roots of a large tree. Really, it was more like a small shelter, but I would hide it before I left Danny. Danny came to a stop beside me then sat down under the ledge. He tried to help me tie parts of roots from other trees to the roots of the tree above the shelter. After half an hour of that, Danny was hidden and the curtain of roots looked pretty natural.

"Be back soon," Danny said.

"Give me three hours before you come looking for me, all right?" I said.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say . . . and be careful, Smartass."

"You too, Genius."

I immediately took to the trees after I'd left Danny. The advantage the trees gave me made me feel as safe as one could feel in a land full of monsters. I spent most of my time in the trees of Purgatory and had become quite skilled at moving from branch to branch and tree to tree without making any sound. I kept my eyes and ears open for anything that I may be able to take down and drag back to Danny.

I didn't need to go far before I found a flock of bird-like creatures. I figured two of those would be enough to feed both of us for tonight. It took a lot of patience and quite a bit of time before I was able to take two of them down, but I finally managed to and got them back to Danny quickly. We moved back near the stream, set up camp, and made a small fire before sitting down together to eat.

"I still have no idea who you are. You know, besides that you worked with the Winchesters," Danny said.

"Well . . . that's really all that matters, right?" I said.

I didn't really want to go into my personal life any more than I had. Danny knew about my work with the Winchesters and what the angels wanted from me. He knew about most of my adventures with Sam and Dean, and I thought that would be enough to quench his thirst for getting to know me.

"No. I want to know who you were before you met Sam and Dean. Maybe you can tell me what you did when you weren't working cases?" Danny asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah, I really do. I wanna know about you. If you open up, I'll answer any questions you have about me."

"Fine. I grew up in Colorado with my mom, my dad, my little brother, and my little sister. We had a normal relationship, and then everyone in our family started dying off. We just thought we had bad luck and tried to move on. One day, I heard my brother and sister screaming. I thought they were just playing, then Mom and Dad started screaming. I hid. When I came out, my entire family had been killed by a wendigo. Sam and Dean showed up after that and here I am."

"Damn, that sucks," Danny mused.

I looked away from him. "Yeah, it does."

"How long ago was that?"

"Before I got here, it was just over a year."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. They're in heaven now. They're safe."

"That's a good thing to know. So, what did you do between cases?"

"I had a boyfriend. We hung out a lot."

"Had?"

My voice was barely above a whisper when I said, "Yeah, he's dead."

"What did it?"

"Me. After an angel possessed him."

"Man, you're making me look like the luckiest guy in the world," Danny said gently. "I'm sorry. This must be hard for you."

"Quit apologizing. I'm a big girl. I can handle it," I snapped. "What about you? What was your life before hunting?" I amended.

"Well, up until I was five, I lived with both of my parents. I was an only child. My dad beat my mom. After we finally got away from him, our family disowned us so it was just me and Mom. Before we started hunting, we lived in this little house. We were close. When she started hunting, I followed in her footsteps. The angels captured us, and you know the rest."

"I didn't make you sound like the luckiest guy in the world. You've lost a lot too. Did you have a girlfriend or anything?"

"No. I kept to myself. I listened to a lot of Green Day though. They were kinda my escape."

"Oh, I see."

"Yeah. What was it like having little siblings?"

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "I knew you were gonna ask that as soon as you said you were an only child. It's like … have you ever visited a daycare?"

"Yeah, but not since I was really little."

"Well, do you remember those kids that were always trying to hang out with the older kids to look cool?"

"Yep, I think I was one of them."

"Just so you know, you were the bane of the older kids' existence," I joked, and Danny grinned. "Anyway, the older kids got all annoyed at you, right, but at the end of the day they still smiled and messed around with you. That's what it's like. It's like being those older kids except you really love those annoying little brats."

"You miss them a lot, don't you?" Danny had true concern in his voice, but I didn't look up. Tears were stinging my eyes, and I was desperately trying to blink them away.

"Yeah, of course I do. I loved them."

"I can tell." Danny quickly changed the subject. "This was a good catch. Thanks."

"You think so? They were the first things I came across."

"They might end up lasting us a few days."

"If we're careful how much we eat, definitely."

"How's your arm feel?"

"I've had worse." Danny eyed me curiously for a minute. "Where'd you grow up?"

I pursed my lips not wanting to talk about the past anymore, but I figured I might as well humor him. "Colorado. In this little town no one ever recognizes. I don't think they even put it on maps. It's nestled in the mountains so there was always a lot to explore."

"What was your house like?"

"It was a two story house with one full bathroom, one half-bath, and four bedrooms. Everyone had their own room besides Mom and Dad. My mom liked to collect tea cups, like really fancy ones that you wouldn't dare use because they're just too pretty, so those were all over the house in china cabinets and stuff. My dad was into painting so a lot of his art was hung up throughout the house, especially the ones he won awards for in local art shows. Lisa and Andrew—"

"Who's that?"

"My brother and sister. They liked to get into everything besides their own toys. The house was always a mess, but that's kinda what made it home, you know? It was only spotless when guests were coming over, and everything felt really stiff and stern then. What about you? Where did you and your mom live before you started hunting and after you left your dad?"

"We lived in a little house in Saratoga Springs, New York. It wasn't much, but it was far away from Dad. It was only us. Mom worked hard, and I tried hard to pass school. Math was my favorite subject."

"Really?" I laughed lightly.

Danny pretended to be offended. "Of course! I would never lie to you!"

"I'm sorry, I've just never heard someone say that. I despise math."

"We're gonna have to change that when we get out of here. Math is, like, the most important thing in the world."

"Are you suggesting I take you home with me?"

"Well, I was hoping you wouldn't leave me on my own."

I glanced at Danny. He was giving me a sort of puppy dog eyes look. I grinned. "I'll think about it. I can't guarantee Sam and Dean won't kill you when we get back though," I warned.

"Anything'd be better than being alone."

I fell silent. I took pity on Danny. If I'd been left alone after my family was killed, I don't think I would've been able to take it. Danny cleared his throat pulling me out of my thoughts.

"So I guess now wouldn't be a good time to mention your hair's a mess," he said cheekily.

I smiled and ruffled his hair. "And you're one to talk?" I joked.

"You've got a little something on your cheek, too." Danny wiped some grime from today's battle off of my face. "Is that vampire or one of those bird things you caught?"

"I don't know. I dare you to taste it!"

To my surprise, Danny actually licked the stuff off his finger and gagged.

"Definitely vampire." He coughed. "I think I deserve a little more of that whiskey to get the taste out of my mouth"

"No way. That's only for emergencies. I'll get you some water though."

"Won't work. There's probably vampire guts in there, too."

"Aww, you poor baby. I guess you'll just have to taste vampire for the rest of your life."

Danny laughed, and just for a second, his eyes lit up. It was like he had forgotten where we were for a short time. My heart skipped a beat when he looked at me, still smiling. He held my eyes for a minute before giving me that stupid half grin of his and saying, "What's wrong, Smartass? Leviathan got your tongue?"

I looked away pretending to stoke the fire. "I was just thinking. . . ."

"What about?"

"Just . . ." I thought about telling Danny the truth. I was thinking about how amazing he looked when he was happy, but I was still secretly having nightmares about Dylan, and I doubted anything that started in Purgatory would end well. We would probably end up splitting after we got out anyway, right? "Nothing. I was just daydreaming."

"Daydreaming? Maybe you should actually sleep. You worked hard today. You deserve it."

"But if we're attacked, you can't defend us. You sleep. I'll keep watch."

Danny watched me for a long time then finally said, "Fine, but wake me up if you start getting tired."

"Will do."

~oOo~

Weeks later, Danny was still on the sidelines, and I had barely slept since the day he was hurt. Every now and then I'd sleep half the night if I thought we were somewhere safe. Tonight wasn't one of those nights. Neither was last night, or the night before, or the night before. We had covered quite a distance in the past three days, and without sleep, it was exhausting.

It didn't matter. I knew this part of the forest was especially active. I could sense it, and once in a while I could hear it. Danny had fallen asleep a while ago leaving me in the dark in my tree. Hours had passed and I was starting to get drowsy, but I couldn't get up and move around; that would draw attention. I tried to stay awake, but about twenty minutes later, I fell asleep.

"Annabelle! Dog!"

Danny's frantic yell woke me. I dropped out of my tree and tried to locate the threat. A Doberman stood between Danny and me, eyeing Danny hungrily. The dog growled and barked. He was slowly inching towards Danny.

"Hey, little guy. Looking for a snack?" I taunted.

The Doberman glanced at me, bared its teeth in warning.

"Aww, he's so cute, can we keep him, Danny?" I asked with false sincerity in my voice.

Danny laughed nervously. "Maybe we can find you a dog that can actually protect you instead of this one."

The dog lunged, and I though he was going to rip into Danny's throat for a second.

"No!" I tried to hide the scared edge in my voice. The Doberman pulled back waiting to see what I would say next. "I want a harmless little lap dog like this one. I bet he would just love the little dresses I can buy for him."

That was the last straw. The Doberman turned and ran at me. I almost ran the other way, but forced myself to wait. I braced myself as he jumped at me, swung my blade, and watched the disemboweled dog fall at my feet with one final whimper.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I amended as I knelt next to Danny.

"It's okay, he didn't do any harm." Danny smiled, but I could tell it was purely for my sake. He looked a little annoyed with me.

"You could've been killed."

"So could you, but neither of us were. It's okay. It happens to everyone."

"How would you know? We're among the first humans down here."

"Hey, don't snap at me."

"Don't act like you're not mad at me. I know you are. I'm mad at me too."

"Annabelle, I'm trying to say you shouldn't be mad at yourself. You're only human. You've gone three, almost four days without sleep. You fell asleep, and that's okay. Yeah, I'm a little angry, but only because you didn't tell me you were that tired. I can handle taking a watch."

"You're still hurt, and this place is clearly very active."

"I can still defend myself. Go back to sleep, Annabelle. I'll keep a lookout for the rest of the night."

"But—"

"Sleep."

"I don't—"

_"Sleep."_

I sighed. "Fine. Wake me if anything comes up."

Danny just stared at me until I climbed back into my tree and closed my eyes. It wasn't long before sleep found me, and not long after that, morning came. Danny and I set out again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Sam**

* * *

_6 Months  
__Victoria, Kansas_

People becoming impossibly strong and eventually disintegrating. That sounded like angels to me, but Cas insisted that angels were working with a Crocotta. The angels used the Crocotta to imitate the voice of one of the victim's family members to convince the victim to let an angel in. From what little we had heard from Cas, it sounded like he could use all the help he could get rounding up the last of Zoe's army so I agreed to come help him out. It took a lot of convincing to get Dean into the car to come with me on the case.

"Why can't we just leave it alone? Don't you think she would've wanted us to?" he asked.

"No. Dean, you know Annabelle would want us to stop the angels once and for all. Isn't that what she died for?" I said. "Besides, she wouldn't have wanted us to let a monster run free. She would've wanted to fight."

"You make her sound like some sort of warrior."

"She was."

"No! No, she wasn't, Sam. She was a kid."

"She didn't act like it."

"'Cause she didn't want to be treated like it. You were the same way when you were little."

"And did you treat me like an adult?"

"Hell no."

"Why'd you treat her like one?"

"She wouldn't have it any other way, and you know that. If we come across another kid, I'll … I'll ground 'em, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." I decided to change the subject. "Are you interested in what the victims' family members and friends heard shortly before they, too, were burned to crisps?"

"Just tell me."

"They all heard the voice of the first affected family member whispering for help through the wall."

"So, what? You think the Crocotta is imitating the voices, and the angels are using the family members' voices to get vessels?"

"That's exactly what I think."

"All right. Well, let's stop them, I guess."

~oOo~

Victoria, Kansas was the one of the smallest towns I had ever been to. It had no MOTELS of any kind so Dean and I had to find a house to squat in. We were settled in by noon and went to talk to witnesses as reporters soon after. We talked to the Anderson family first. They answered the door seconds after we knocked and let Dean and I in right away. They offered to serve us coffee and something to eat even after we said we were reporters looking into the disintegration of their neighbors who they were supposedly good friends with. Their friendliness struck me as strange.

"You found the Rogers family's remains, correct?" I asked.

"Yes, yes we did," Mr. Anderson drawled.

"Was there any particular reason you were at the Rogers' house?" Dean asked.

"They had invited us over for dinner, and when they didn't answer their door, we got worried. You know how it is."

"Um, yeah… . You didn't happen to hear any voices from within the house did you?" I asked.

"No, it was silent."

Dean and I glanced at each other. These people either weren't effected or were lying to us.

"Did you hear, see, or feel anything strange in the days before you found the bodies?" Dean asked.

"No, everything seemed normal. You know, besides the recent murders."

"Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Anderson," I said and stood. "I think we have what we need."

Dean shook hands with the man, and we left.

"Well, he wasn't creepy at all," Dean commented in the car.

"Yeah," I sighed, "and _so _useful. They heard nothing; they felt nothing; they saw nothing."  
"What did you expect? They're normal people. They don't know what to look for."

"I guess you're right."

Dean pulled up in front of the house we were using. When we went inside, Cas was standing in the middle of the largest room in the empty house. He looked at Dean, a silent apology in his eyes.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean eyed the angel. He looked mildly angry. "Cas."

I cleared my throat. "Something wrong?"

"No. I thought you might want to be updated on the situation," Cas said.

"Make it quick," Dean snapped.

"I can come back later if you're busy."

"No. Just get it over with and get out."

"Dean, if you are angry with me, you should tell me why."

"I'm not angry."

"Your body language says otherwise."

"Just give us the damn update, Cas."

Cas squinted at Dean for a moment as if trying to read him then began his report. "Many of the angels have chosen to join me, but some want to complete Zoe's plan. A few of those are here. They are trying to find vessels. Obviously, it is not working in their favor. This town is in danger. We must find the angels quickly."

"We're working as fast as we can. We already talked to Mr. Anderson. He seems kinda sketchy. You might want to watch him," I said.

"Have you talked to Mrs. Anderson yet?" Cas asked.

"No. We'll see if she's home tomorrow." Dean said.

"I will speak with you then."

Cas disappeared. Dean went back to the room he chose and grabbed his wallet. He took out some cash and handed it to me.

"You know what I like. I trust you to get the food," he said.

I took the Impala's keys and left to find a fast food restaurant. My thoughts wondered to Dean's apparent anger towards Castiel, and Cas's apologetic look. Was this still about Annabelle? It wasn't Cas's fault he didn't get there in time. His part in the war was crucial too. I knew Dean was looking for someone to blame, but Cas shouldn't be that person.

If I was Dean, I would turn my anger to the angels who are still killing people. Those are the same angels that helped kill Annabelle. I was angry she was dead too, but I knew it wasn't Cas's fault. I knew it was the other angels'. Cas was doing a fairly good job of cleaning up Zoe's mess. If we were lucky, all of the angels would either be gone or on Cas's side by the end of the year.

I found a McDonald's and pulled up to the speaker, and ordered Dean and my meals. When I got back to the house, I heard arguing inside.

"I was screaming for your help! You could've at least sent one of your angels to help her!" Dean yelled.

"They were all needed to win the battle we were fighting, Dean. I wish I was there to save Annabelle. She was a valuable weapon." Cas said in a somewhat calm tone.

"Oh, she's a weapon to your side now too? She was more than that, and you know it! Someone should've been there to save her!"

"Everyone was needed in heaven, Dean! What will it take to make you understand that? I am not the one to blame for her death! Zoe's army is! I am doing all I can to avenge Annabelle, and what are you doing? Crying over her loss?"

"I'm grieving, Cas! It's what humans do!"

I decided I should go inside before Dean started a fist fight. When I entered the main room, Dean and Cas were already in each other's faces. I put myself between them, keeping them at arm's length from one another, and looked between the two.

"What the hell's wrong with you two? Fighting over whose fault it was and who could've done what better won't change what happened. It's time we move on," I said roughly.

Dean shoved me away and went to his room.

"He's right!" Cas called after him. "There's nothing we could've done!"

"Hey, don't encourage him. Take a breath, Cas."

"It's not my fault, Sam. I got there as fast as I could."

"I know. He'll get over it. Why don't you leave for tonight? You can check in on us tomorrow night, okay?"

Castiel nodded and disappeared. I went back out to the Impala to grab my and Dean's meals. I set the bags in the main room and went to Dean's room. He was lying in his "bed" with his headphones in glaring at the ceiling. I poked him with my SHOE to get his attention, and he turned his glare on me.

"What was that? Cas is only trying to help end this once and for all. You can't treat him like that!" I said.

"He could've gotten there faster," Dean answered gruffly.

"And, what? Let them take over heaven? Annabelle never would've forgiven you!"

"Well at least she'd be alive!" Dean snapped.

"It's time for you to let go, Dean. This is getting ridiculous! What do you want? Her dead? Her alive? Her a hunter? Her a sweet innocent little girl? Make up your mind!"

"I want to change what happened! That's what I want, Sam! She gave everything for us! To save this world! She was fourteen! It shouldn't be that way!"

Dean's glare softened, and the tension in the room became a heavy sadness.

"I know, but we gave her the choice," I answered.

"And if she hadn't come with us the angels would've turned her against humanity," Dean argued. "Why'd they prey on her so young? It's not fair."

"I know … . Just come get something to eat."

Dean didn't say anything, but he got up and followed me to the living room. We ate in silence, then Dean locked himself me his room for the night. I did the same.

~oOo~

Dean didn't wake me up until it was nearly noon. He splashed cold water in my face and nearly yelled, "Rise and shine, Sammy! Time to talk to Mrs. Anderson! How fast can you get ready?"

"Give me twenty minutes," I grumbled while sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"I'll wait in the car. Hurry up."

Dean left the house. Moments later, I heard the Impala's engine start and Dean's music blare. I shook my head, smiling. Maybe Dean had taken my advice to let it go. I pushed thoughts of last night's argument out of my mind and got dressed. On the way back to the Anderson's house, Dean informed me that Mrs. Anderson was really sorry she missed us and wanted to speak with us.

Mrs. Anderson set some tea in front of Dean and me and sat in the chair across from us. Unlike Mr. Anderson, Mrs. Anderson seemed a bit nervous. She fidgeted with her wedding ring as she spoke.

"I'm awfully sorry I missed y'all yesterday. I'm so glad you were able to come back today," she said in the cheeriest tone she could manage.

"It's no problem, Mrs. Anderson. We need as much information as we can get for our article," I said.

"Why don't we jump right in?" Dean said. "What were the Rogers like?"

"Oh, they were the best neighbors I've ever had!" Mrs. Anderson exclaimed. "They were so inviting and friendly. I'll miss them greatly."

"Did they act strangely before their deaths?" I asked.

"Well … they invited us over almost every day which was kind of weird, but we just thought they might be a little lonelier than usual."

"Were there any strange sounds or sights in or around the Rogers' house around the time of their deaths?" Dean asked.

"Mr. Anderson mentioned hearing them calling for help, but when he went to investigate, everything was fine."

I glanced at Dean. That fit the MO. Mr. Anderson may have already been an angel.

"Has Mr. Anderson been acting strange lately?" Dean asked.

"No," Mrs. Anderson paused. "Now that I think about it, the Rogers had strange shadows the last time we saw them."

"What did the shadows look like?" I asked.

"It … it looked like they had wings. It must've been the lighting."

"Okay. I think we've covered everything unless you have something to add," I said.

"I don't have anything else. If you boys need anything else, you just call, okay?"

"We'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mrs. Anderson," I said.

"Thank you," Dean said.

With that, Dean and I exited the Andersons' home and got into the Impala.

"Think the husband's a vessel?" Dean asked.

"Maybe. Give it a few days. We'll call and set up a time to speak with both of them," I said.

Dean started the CAR. "Let's go get lunch. I'm starving."

Dean and I ate lunch, got what we could out of the coroner and sheriff, ate dinner, Dean had a few drinks, and we headed back to the house. The only disturbance of the silence of the night was Castiel's visit. Dean had gone to sleep; so I updated the angel, asked him to keep an eye on the Andersons, and went to bed myself.

~oOo~

Two days later, Dean and I showed up at the Anderson's doorstep for the third time that week claiming to need a "follow-up" interview. Just as before, the Andersons were overly friendly. This time, Mrs. Anderson seemed to be on the same level of happiness as Mr. Anderson. Before they allowed us to start the interview, they served us tea and cookies and insisted on making small talk.

"How did you boys come to be reporters?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"We've just always been interested in it I guess," I answered.

"Quite an interesting field to enter," Mr. Anderson commented cheerily.

"Indeed. It takes us all over the place," Dean said.

"Is that so?" Mrs. Anderson asked. "Where all have you been?"

"All over the country. Colorado, Texas, Nebraska, Indiana," Dean listed.

"There are so many more we can't think of at the moment," I added.

"And that girl you used to travel with?" Mr. Anderson asked in a suddenly cold voice. "What happened to her?"

Dean and I were on our feet, angel blades in hand. Mr. Anderson gave a slight close-lipped smile, and Mrs. Anderson stood tall. I glanced at the floor behind them. Their shadows included wings extending from their shoulders.

"We were wondering how long it would take you boys to figure out we had moved into the Rogers' neighbors," Mrs. Anderson said and changed the subject back to Annabelle. "We heard the little girl got shot."

Mr. Anderson made a _tsk, tsk _sound. "Such a shame for a pretty little thing like that to be sent to Purgatory."

"Purgatory?" Dean interrupted. "What do you mean Purgatory? The kid's dead. She's in heaven with her family."

"Unfortunately, she isn't. See, that gun had a little surprise in it for the girl. If you don't believe me, you can have your little pet Castiel check it out for you," Mr. Anderson said smugly.

"A surprise?" I asked.

"Yes, dear. Annabelle required a … special punishment. An eternity in Purgatory was decided on. The bullets are made to wait until the victim is nearly dead, transport them to Purgatory, and partially heal them. She was probably killed down there all alone," Mrs. Anderson said.

"No!"

Dean lost it. The Andersons were dead before I had a chance to move, and Dean was out the door in the next second. I set the Andersons' bodies on fire in the backyard and met Dean by the Impala. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and was taking big gulps every ten seconds.

"Dean, hey, Dean!" I took the bottle and hurled it across the street. "We're not doing that again. Listen, they just told us Annabelle might be alive. We might have a chance to find her, Dean!"

Dean shook his head vigorously and turned away from me. "No, Sam. No, there's no way they put her down there. They were lying. She's gone, and we have to believe that."

"What are you talking about? What if they weren't lying? We have to at least look for her! We can't abandon her if she needs us!"

"She doesn't," Dean said with an intensity that surprised me, "and she never will because she's dead, Sam! She's with her family, and we need to leave her alone! Do you understand?"

"We can't give up on her! You would never give up on me!"

"That is enough!" Dean yelled. "Do not _ever _bring her up again!"

Neither of us said another word. Dean got in the passenger seat to sleep the whiskey off, and I drove us back to Lincoln where I decided we would stay until we were talking again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Danny**

* * *

_160 years  
__Purgatory_

Hushed whimpering from the branches above woke me. Panic set in as I realized Annabelle had been sleeping there, but faded when I looked up and saw her safe, but in the throes of a nightmare. She hadn't quite learned to keep the nightmares internal yet. She was doing better though. When she first got down here, she'd wake up screaming. It drew a crap load of attention to us. I've been working on teaching her to quiet down ever since.

I got up high enough to lightly shake Annabelle and whispered, "Annabelle. Annabelle, wake up."

Annabelle immediately snapped out of her nightmare, her eyes wide and breaths uneven, and reached for my arm. Once she realized it was just me, she scooted back to where the branch met the tree trunk, brought her knees to her chest, and stared at me.

"Was I making noises again? I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"It's okay, we'll work on it. You look pretty shaken up," I said as I processed Annabelle's appearance.

"They were extra bad tonight…"

"Do you want to talk?"

"Not really. It's the same old stuff just a little more intense." Annabelle shifted her weight. Her eyes told a completely different story than her words.

I pulled myself onto the branch with Annabelle. "What made it more intense?"

"It was just . . . things from Purgatory were in there. You were in there."

"You just have to remember they're not real. They can't hurt you or me or Sam or Dean or whoever else you're seeing them hurt, okay?"

Annabelle nodded though she looked like she wanted to argue. I kept my eyes on her expecting her to start talking, but when she didn't after a good two minutes, I sighed.

"What were you going to say instead of nodding?" I asked.

"Nothing. Can we just drop it? I really don't want to argue tonight," Annabelle said in the hushed tone she used when she truly didn't want to fight with me, even if it was nothing big.

"Is that thought gonna keep bringing you down whenever you have nightmares? If it is, I need to know it no matter what. After all, if you're distracted, you're not at your best; and I need you at your best."

Annabelle was quiet for a long time again, but I refused to leave the tree until she gave me an answer. Finally, she said, "What if they can hurt me? What if they're just showing the future? I mean, I had nightmares about Dylan and Marina's deaths, and it happened. I'm just scared that they'll come true and leave me alone down here and up there, and I don't want to be alone, especially not down here. I want to see you get out of here."

It was my turn to be quiet. I had never heard Annabelle admit that she was scared. I had seen fear in her eyes, but she had never actually uttered the words "I'm scared" to me. Andbutso, I didn't know what to say to her. I reverted to sarcasm.

"Annabelle Winchester scared? I don't believe it!" I joked.

Annabelle gave me a small smile and lightly shoved me. She tried to use a joking tone, but I could hear the slight seriousness in her voice and see that there was no joking look in her eyes when she said, "Annabelle Winchester is always scared, Genius. She just hides it well."

"Maybe she should admit it more so someone can be there for her when she's scared. I hope she knows she doesn't have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders alone. She can ask for help."

"Maybe she wants help, but she won't ask for it because every time she does, somebody gets hurt. Maybe her goal in holding the world on her own is to protect the ones she loves."

It was hard to be angry at Annabelle when she looked so scared, but I couldn't help it. Whenever she got this way, whenever she thought everything was her fault, I felt a spark of anger.

"Well, she should know that it's not her fault. When someone wants to help her, it's because they care about her and don't want her to get hurt either," I fired back.

Annabelle looked away from me with the hint of tears in her eyes and said, "This is why she didn't want to talk. She knew this is what would be said, and she didn't want a fight. She's ending the conversation now."

"Annabelle, I didn't . . . I just meant that letting someone help you isn't a bad thing. If they offer to help you, it means they don't care what happens to them as long as they can make sure you're okay."

Annabelle stayed quiet. After saying, "I'm sorry, Annabelle, and goodnight," I left her tree.

~oOo~

Annabelle shook me awake early in the morning.

"We should get going, and I accept your apology," she said.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and looked at Annabelle. She was trying her best to look like she was okay and ready to go, but that didn't work on me anymore. She looked tired and pretty nervous. She kept shifting from one foot to the other and biting her lip. I began packing my things up for the day's walk.

"Are you feeling okay, Annabelle?" I asked as I zipped up my backpack.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do I really look that bad?" she asked in a joking tone.

I pretended to critically look over her now bony frame. Finding food was getting harder and harder. We were only finding enough to keep us alive.

"No, darling," I said in my best fashion critic voice, "you look _wonderful."_

Annabelle grinned and shook her head. "Why thank you, Daniel, dear. Shall we get going?"

"Yes, of course, but do keep in mind that if you ever call me Daniel again we might just have to fight," I said in a slightly more serious tone. I hated being called Daniel.

"I'll keep that in mind. Let's go!"

Annabelle ran off leading the way and reverting to the trees whenever she felt uneasy.

~oOo~

We travelled for weeks without any major attacks, but I noticed Annabelle slowing down and paying less attention to what she was doing. One day as we were running through Purgatory, Annabelle nearly ran right into a trap the monsters had set up to catch themselves a meal. I grabbed her arm just in time and pulled her back. She fell against me, but I hadn't pulled her back that hard. I moved my hands to her shoulders and steadied her out making her look at me. Annabelle looked as if she was just waking up: her eyes had a tired glaze over them and her eyelids drooped.

"I—I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't see that there."

I pulled Annabelle a little ways away from the clearing with the trap, had her sit at the bottom of a tree leaning on the trunk, and kneeled in front of her giving her a stern look. "How long has it been since you slept last?" I asked.

"Um . . ." she took a minute to go over events in her mind, "the day that weird lizard thing attacked us."

I counted the days from then until now and felt my eyes widen. "Annabelle! That was nine days ago!"

"Shh. You'll draw attention to us."

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Too many nightmares."

I sat down in front of Annabelle. "Talk to me. Tell me about the nightmares. Let me help you. You have to sleep."

She was too tired to argue with me and immediately began to spill everything. "It's always Dylan and Marina and my family and the people I've lost on cases just screaming at me that it's my fault they're dead. Then it usually fades to Sam, Dean, and Cas. They ask where I am and why I left them. Then it'll be Purgatory and you and losing you over and over again. I can't . . . I can't keep seeing that."

"Listen, Annabelle, I promise you it's not your fault those people died, and you need to stop blaming yourself. Once you do, those nightmares will go away, okay?" I asked. Annabelle nodded, and I continued. "When you see Sam, Dean, and Cas, you need to tell yourself and tell them you'll be back soon because you will. As for the Purgatory nightmares, just try to block them out. You won't lose me. Do you think you can do this?"

"I'll try."

"Sleep. I'll keep watch until you wake up."

Annabelle nodded and climbed into the lowest branch of the tree before instantly falling asleep. She slept the rest of that day and slept more often and better for a few weeks after. Suddenly, our nightmares seemed to flare up at the same time.

My nightmares about my mom seemed to get worse and nightmares of becoming hopelessly lost without Annabelle in Purgatory started to haunt me. I was able to hide my nightmares well, Annabelle didn't seem to notice them at all, but Annabelle sometimes woke from her nightmares in a defensive stance on her branch or by falling out of the tree she was sleeping in. She refused to tell me about her nightmares and began sleeping less, but still sleeping. I figured as long as she was getting at least a little sleep, I had nothing to worry about.

I was wrong. After months without a battle, a huge group of assorted monsters jumped out of the trees at Annabelle and I. I noticed Annabelle's movements were a little sluggish, but she was getting what she needed to done. Towards the end of the battle, Annabelle started slowing down. Before she could get out of the way, one of the monster's teeth sunk into her neck. Almost immediately, Annabelle began to pale and her knees buckled.

I ran to her as fast as I could, cut down the monster, and positioned myself in front of Annabelle to protect her. There were only a few monsters left. I ended the battle quickly and dropped to my knees next to Annabelle. She groaned when I rolled her onto her back which was a good thing, but she'd lost a lot of blood and didn't say anything.

"Annabelle? Are you still with me, Smartass?" I asked.

Annabelle gave a slight nod. I cleaned up the bite marks on her neck and covered them up. I briefly left Annabelle to fill the small tin cup with water. When I came back, I moved Annabelle so she was sitting against a tree and brought the cup to her lips. She took a few sips.

"You were a little slow out there, Annabelle. What's going on?" I asked gently.

"Just an off day I guess," Annabelle lied.

"Do you wanna tell me about the nightmares? Promise I won't be mad."

Annabelle took a few more sips of water before answering. "It's the same things. Your tips worked for a while then they came back . . . and more violent."

"More violent?"

She nodded weakly. "They're not just screaming at me; they're attacking me. I don't know what to do about it so I just stopped sleeping so much."

"We'll figure it out. For now, you need rest. Would you be okay if I left you to find something for us to eat?"

Annabelle nodded and I left her to get dinner. I came back with a scrawny bird that would normally only feed one of us, but it would have to do for now. I would let Annabelle have most of it. She needed it more than me. Annabelle gave me a look that meant she wasn't going to let me fulfill my plan.

"Bad night for hunting," I explained as if I didn't understand the look she was giving me.

"I sincerely hope you're not gonna try to be a gentleman about it. We'll split the bird evenly," Annabelle answered in the same tone I had used.

"Annabelle, you need it more. We've gotta—."

"No. You have to eat, too, and if you won't take half the bird, I won't eat at all."

"That's not fair."

"Neither is me getting more of it than you."

I sighed. "Fine, you win."

I set up the fire, prepped the bird, and began to cook it. Annabelle asked multiple times if there was anything I wanted her to help with even though she knew I would always answer, "No, don't worry about it. Just relax for now. Drink some more water." We each ate our halves of the bird, and by then Annabelle looked as if she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Are you going to sleep down here tonight?" I asked.

Annabelle looked terrified by the thought. "No, no, I'll sleep in the tree, but before I go to sleep, what do you think I should do about the nightmares?"

"Your subconscious is still convinced those deaths were your fault. That's why the nightmares came back. I think you should take some time to go deep inside yourself, go over the deaths again, and realize it truly wasn't your fault. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a good plan. Thank you, Danny. If you want to sleep, wake me up, okay?"

I nodded even though I was going to let Annabelle sleep through the night. She had a tough night. She kept squirming in her branch and tears slid from her tightly closed eyes every now and then. I guessed she was reliving the deaths. If she did it right, her nightmares would go away for the most part.

Annabelle and I kept on our way through Purgatory. The terrain started to get rougher, and trees started to get sparser. Annabelle got jumpy whenever she wasn't able to climb into a tree, and when she was, she would stay in the trees as we travelled. She was in the trees almost full time.

We were picking our way through a particularly rocky area without trees. Annabelle jumped at nearly every sound and her hand never left her machete. I could hear her say things under her breath like, "Just a bird," or, "Get it together, Winchester; this is ridiculous," but never called her out on it or made any comments. If talking to herself was getting her through this, so be it. We were almost to the tree line when Annabelle yelled, "Danny!" and pulled me down on the rocks a split second before an arrow sailed passed where I had just been standing.


End file.
